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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [private]  Desolation comes upon the sky // Sarkis
    #1

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    It's been pleasant, here. In the extreme.

    Once, long ago, she would have resented the pleasantries, the peace. But she is old now. Wizened. Come back from the dead, to boot. With powerful memories of exactly what war wrought, of the exact suffering it causes, Scorch knows better now than to be so foolhardily in favour of war. She had seen it kill her best friends, had seen it kill children, had seen it... Kill.

    And even in the past, she hadn't been wont to kill. When the faeries had selected her for a quest, to be pitted against herself until she either died or conquered the apparition... Even then Scorch had chosen the lesser of evils, had sent her enemy into a portal into another realm instead of murdering the dreampt-up figure.

    That is why she now can manipulate darkness as well as light - because she had always been an equal mix of both, through and through.

    It's evening in Nerine, a dim light cascading down into the forest from where it sets along the sea-line just off the cliffs that she calls home. Her head is lowered, lips tearing off blades of grass, a quiet conversation taking place between herself and her deceased husband Hestoni, to whom she is connected via ghost whispering. They talk of their children, and sometimes a smile sneaks across the rat's lips as pleasant memories come to mind. Ea juts in sometimes to comment some inaccuracy or simply to also reminisce.

    Her current children are off playing together, somewhere. But she is content.

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle



    @[Sarkis]
    [Image: scorch2.png]
    #2
    I can’t recall the last time I was in Nerine. I wouldn’t say I avoided it, however it brought grief upon me. They reminded me of her, all of them. They were her people and though I know they would be more than welcoming to me, I cannot bear it. I feel her absence in everything, in my loneliness more than anything.

    Perhaps I am carried away with my mourning, but a child missing her mother is understandable. I know I have let myself get ruined by her death, in my weakness I have let it become what I am good at. Let it be known that I am proud of being good at something for once. It is my newfound talent.

    In the morning when I wake up, I mourn.

    Throughout the day I find every excuse to relate it to my mother,  I let everything remind me of her and welcome the pain.

    My final thoughts before I rest are often that I miss her, it overwhelms me and I close my eyes so I may continue my routine in the morning.

    Some would say it is not a proper way to live and I am doing only harm to myself. Let me deteriorate, for I cannot find anyone who will accept me as my mother had. It is sad, yes. Pathetic even, but it is weak like I am.

    It’s evening as I find my way into Nerine. As I stroll through it I feel miserable, knowing that if things were different- if she had not died that she would be here. In the dim light I lower my head so it brushes the grass as I walk. I’m too sad to eat, my hunger is satisfied by the depression in itself.

    For a moment I think I catch her scent in the air, but I dismiss it as my nostalgia. Then I see her and I know I am delusional. I have become so involved in myself and my grief that I conjured her up in my mind. It must be so. But I cannot resist going to her- imagination or not.

    My slow and pitiful stroll turns into a full on run, I call out to her desperately. ”Mother? Mother! Is that you?”

    As I near it seems my imaginary version of Scorch is so realistic, I stop myself in my tracks. Her scent is too strong, her body too real. It is not just my mind playing tricks on me, it is her in the flesh.

    Tears fall from my eyes without end, I cannot believe it. So long I’ve wished to see her and now she is here. And I can’t understand it. How she came back from the dead, is she still the same as she used to be or is she changed? I ramble aloud uncontrolably, my nerves on edge. ”I don’t understand, how can it be? But.. You were dead… And now you are here standing before me in the flesh..” I move closer to her to nuzzle up against her side, how I have missed her dearly. ”Oh, please tell me you are you and not a zombie or illusion. I missed you.”

    But the little voice in my head speaks to me admits my joy, calling me back to the dark sadness I’ve lived in for too long. Why didn’t she seek me out, how could she let me be in the dark for so long? I silence it for now, letting myself rejoice in my mothers presence. Perhaps later I may be courageous enough to ask what I fear.
    #3

    WATCH THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGH INTO THE NIGHT

    It would seem as if her reunions with long-ago children was still far from over. After having been back in Beqanna for over two years, the warrior woman had begun to lose hope that she'd ever see any of them again. There was no news of them, nor could she track their scents farther than her wishful dreams. Often she found herself speaking with Ea and Hestoni, trusting them to reassure her that none of her other children had yet joined them in the Afterlife. Still, she missed her babies with a fearsome passion; she had raised them for decades, and they were as much a part of her as her Jungle had been.

    And as much as her new cliff-side Jungle was, too.

    With her head lowered between that short blades of winter-grass, Scorch at first missed the appearance of a bay-roan figure not far from where she stood. In fact, Scorch remained oblivious right until a voice called out above the evening breeze; and when that voice did reach her ears, Scorch's heart stopped.

    Mother? Mother! Is that you?

    Throwing her eyes towards the mare, Scorch whinnied a shrill reply, eyes rolling and welling with tears as her own body accelerated forward to meet the other halfway. And yet, the darling girl stopped short, tears streaming down her face as sobs overtook her thin frame. But her hesitation did not sway Scorch at all - no, as words of confusion and disbelief spilled out of her third-youngest's mouth, the mutilated mare pulled her into her strong embrace, holding her until her sobs subsided.

    "It's really me Sarkis, I'm right here." Tears streamed down her own face freely by then, mixing with fur that matched her own original colour perfectly. "It's me baby girl, oh, I've missed you too, so so much."

    With a final squeeze, Scorch released her daughter, stepping back and forcing her to meet her gaze. She knew how hard her death had been on her youngest. And she knew that it should have been her, Sarkis, that she first sought out. Bile rose in her throat at the recognition that she had devoted herself to a kingdom before she had to her own daughter - the one who needed her most.

    "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner, I'm sorry," She smiled, hopeful, and yet fearing the worst. "Please forgive me, I'm here now, for good."

    Scorch

    Once Khaleesi of the Amazon Jungle



    @[Sarkis]
    [Image: scorch2.png]




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